Thursday, June 11, 2015

A Gerard Manley Hopkins Poem


I awoke in the Midsummer not to call night, in the white and the walk 
     of the morning:
The moon, dwindled and thinned to the fringe of a finger-nail held to 
     the candle,
Or paring of paradisaïcal fruit, lovely in waning but lustreless,
Stepped from the stool, drew back from the barrow, of dark Maenefa 
     the mountain;
A cusp still clasped him, a fluke yet fanged him, entangled him, not quit 
This was the prized, the desirable sight, unsought, presented so easily,
Parted me leaf and leaf, divided me, eyelid and eyelid of slumber.


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